


Dean On The Art Of Dying

by deanandsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean thinks back on his life, Gen, Introspection, sam and dean - Freeform, season eleven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: Dean is thirty eight. He never thought he'd even reach thirty. But the road has been long and winding.





	

Fingers tapping to the beat of his favourite song, Dean relaxed his body against the leather seat, culled into a pleasurable torpor by the familiarity of his surroundings.

He might camp out in the bunker, but the Impala was home. Always had been, always would be.  
He gave a quick glance through the side window. Sam was nowhere in sight.  
The witness his brother had gone to interview was either a really hot chick or a librarian type who'd charmed him with her literary skills!

Knowing Sammy, it was most probably the latter.  
Although Sam did occasionally indulge in a one night stand, Dean was convinced it didn't happen way enough. The kid was a red blooded adult, he needed to relax more.

But then Sam wasn't your run of the mill human and, he sighed, neither was he.

Years ago Dean had figured hunting would be the death of him way before he reached thirty, yet here he was, thirty-eight and still alive.

Well, he amended, that wasn't strictly true.  
He'd been practically dead in hospital after the crash with the truck when he was twenty-seven. Only his dad's deal with Azazel had saved him from going with Tessa the reaper.  


Then a couple of years later the Trickster had gotten his rocks off by killing him in all manner of 'delightful' ways for over a hundred Tuesdays. Not that Dean remembered much, the entire thing was kinda hazy, though he was certain Sam could recite all one hundred of them by rota, complete with sad puppy dog eyes!

His lips curled up in a smile when he thought how tightly Sam had hugged him that Wednesday morning in the motel room.  
Dean hadn't really understood the reason, but he did understand that Sam had needed to feel him alive and well. So he'd let his little brother hang on as long as he'd wanted, without objections.

His smile waned however when he remembered what had gone down a few months later.

Ripped apart by hellhounds as an appetizer before being dragged into He'll, with Sam's desperate wails echoing in his ears.  
It wasn't something he liked to dwell on.

Yeah, he'd been pretty dead back then.

Not to forget a mean round of bullets to the chest from Roy and Walt. Pretty well dead then too, though the promise he'd made to the two fuckers had still to be carried out, and it would be as soon as they crawled out of their holes!

Purgatory didn't count, Dean reckoned. 

He'd been still alive when Dick pulled him in, but years later Metatron's blade did the job well enough.  
The bastard had killed him, and Dean had been initiated into the pleasures of demonhood.  


A flush suffused his cheeks when he recalled all he'd gotten up to as Crowley's sidekick.  
Best not to dwell on the nights of shared orgiastic sex!

So yeah, technically he was still alive, though at the count, he'd been dead more years than he'd lived. His time in Hell alone had spanned forty.

'Best of both worlds', he snorted caustically, catching sight of his little brother.  
Sam had a wide smile on his face. Either he'd gotten laid, or the witness had been forthcoming with information on the hunt.

"You get lucky back there, Francis? You were inside long enough for some happy time."

"What? No!" Sam bitchfaced him. "But I did get a lot of useful stuff."

 

As the Impala pulled away from the sidewalk, Dean chuckled.  
Right now he was still among the living and so was Sammy.  
The next time they died, they were heading for the Empty, or so Billie had vowed would be their final destination.  


Dean was okay with that. He'd already been given the grand tour of the afterlife and hadn't been too impressed. The Empty was as good a place as any.  
He glanced over at Sam, his nose buried in his lap-top.....As long as his little brother was there with him, the Empty would be home too.

The end.


End file.
